The storm began long before the clouds arrived.
Violet felt it in the air that morning — a heaviness, a strange pressure behind her breastbone, like the world was holding its breath. The Quiet Between had settled into their days so gently that the slightest shift felt loud. She stood in the doorway of The Hushed Hour, watching the soft spring breeze ruffle the new book display, her fingers lingering on the sign she'd painted the night before:
"Stories That Steady Us."
It was meant to be comforting. It felt suddenly fragile.
Adam came down the stairs from the office with two mugs of coffee, his steps soft, his voice even softer. "You're thinking too loudly again."
"I know," she said, taking the mug he held out. "Something feels… different today."
"Different good?"
"I don't know yet."
Adam leaned against the counter, studying her. "We've had a calm few weeks. Maybe your body just doesn't trust peace yet."
"I'm trying," she admitted. "It just… still scares me sometimes."
His expression softened. "Peace that scares you isn't peace. It's recovery. And recovery takes time."
A small smile tugged at her lips. "When did you become wise?"
"When I fell in love with someone who teaches people how to feel things," he said.
She laughed, but the unease didn't leave.
It only deepened.
---
By afternoon, clouds rolled in without warning — thick, grey, and low, swallowing the soft blue sky. Wind shook the maple outside the shop, scattering a handful of pale green blossoms across the pavement.
Inside, the bookstore seemed dimmer, the corners shadowed.
Violet stacked new arrivals at the front table, trying to ignore the nerves tightening her spine. She told herself it was just the weather. Spring storms were common. They came and went.
But this one felt like it was coming for her.
Just as she reached for the last book in the stack, the back door slammed open with a force that made the front windows tremble.
Grace stood there — drenched from head to toe, hair plastered to her cheeks, chest heaving.
"Vi," she gasped. "You need to come. Now."
Violet's blood ran cold even before the words fully registered. "Grace—what happened?"
Grace swallowed hard, voice breaking. "It's Lucas. He collapsed. At the garden."
"What—" Violet dropped the book in her hand, pulse hammering. She didn't even notice it hit the floor. "Is he—"
"He's alive," Grace said quickly. "But he asked for you. You and Adam. He kept saying your names."
Violet called up the stairs without hesitation. "Adam! Come down!"
His footsteps thundered before she finished the sentence. One look at Grace, and the calm in his face shattered. "Let's go."
They didn't lock the shop. They didn't turn off the lights. They didn't take jackets.
They ran.
---
The storm broke open just as they reached the car.
Rain crashed against the windshield in sheets so thick it looked like someone had pulled a grey curtain over the world. Adam gripped the wheel with white knuckles, leaning forward as if that would help him see through the deluge.
Violet clutched the door handle, breath shallow, heart thumping in frantic, uneven beats.
Grace sat in the back, crying silently into her soaked sleeves.
"He was fine yesterday," Violet whispered, staring out at the blurred buildings. "He was laughing. Making fun of Raj's hat."
"He said he was tired," Grace said, voice ragged. "He said it was nothing. I didn't push him to check it."
"This isn't your fault," Adam said firmly, eyes on the road. "People hide pain. Especially the stubborn ones."
Violet shook her head, tears forming but refusing to fall. Lucas wasn't supposed to be part of any emergency. Lucas was steady. Loud. Annoyingly bright. A constant.
People like Lucas didn't collapse.
People like Lucas didn't scare her.
Until now.
---
The community garden was nearly empty, abandoned in the storm. Only a cluster of people huddled under the wooden awning near the herb beds — familiar faces blurred by rain: Raj, Tessa, Elena, and two elderly volunteers Violet always saw tending the tomatoes.
When they spotted Violet, Adam, and Grace running up the path, the group parted like a door swinging open.
There, on the wooden bench beneath the shelter, lay Lucas.
Too pale. Too still. Rainwater dripped from the ends of his hair onto the blanket someone had thrown across his chest. His breath came shallow, strained, each inhale tight like it hurt.
"Lucas," Grace whispered, falling to her knees beside him.
His eyes fluttered open. When he saw them, he gave a weak smile. "Hey… you came."
Violet sank down on his other side. "Of course we came."
Adam crouched near his feet, eyes scanning Lucas's body — the trembling fingers, the strained breathing, the way he winced with every small movement.
"What happened?" Adam asked Raj.
"He said he felt dizzy," Raj said, voice shaking. "Then he grabbed his chest and went down. We called the ambulance right away."
"You should've called sooner," Grace snapped at him in a crack of grief.
Raj flinched. "I—I didn't know it was—"
"It's okay," Lucas rasped. "Raj… did fine."
Violet swallowed hard. "Lucas… talk to us, okay? Just stay awake."
He laughed weakly. "I'm not going out in a garden. That's too poetic even for me."
But Violet saw the fear beneath the humor.
She saw the way his eyes darted to Grace, then to Adam, then finally rested on her — like he was memorizing them.
"Vi…" he whispered. "Before they get here… I need to say something."
Violet shook her head fiercely. "No. Save it. Say it later."
"Vi," he repeated, voice cracking, "I might not have a later."
Grace broke into sobs, pressing her forehead against his hand.
Adam reached for Violet's shoulder, grounding her.
Lucas's breath trembled. "I need you both to promise me something."
Violet wiped her rain-wet face. "Anything. Lucas, anything."
"Don't… waste the quiet parts. The good parts." His gaze drifted between them. "You two… you're meant for this place. For each other. I saw it before you did."
Violet felt something break inside her. Adam's breath hitched.
"And Grace—" Lucas whispered, turning his head with clear effort, "if I get through this… we'll talk. We'll really talk. No fear. No running. Just… honesty."
Grace sobbed harder, clutching his hand. "You will get through this. Lucas, please."
The storm roared around them, thunder shaking the sky.
Then, faint beneath it, they heard the distant wail of an ambulance.
Lucas closed his eyes with relief. "Good… timing."
But a moment later, his body seized in pain. He gasped sharply, his hand slipping from Violet's.
"Lucas!" Violet cried. "Lucas, look at me!"
Tessa shrieked. Elena covered her mouth. Raj whispered, "No, no, no—"
The paramedics sprinted across the garden, shouting commands.
"Move aside!"
"Clear the area!"
"Sir, can you hear me?"
They lifted him with practiced urgency, attaching monitors, pressing an oxygen mask to his face, shouting numbers Violet didn't understand but felt terrified hearing.
Grace tried to stand, but her legs gave out. Adam caught her, steadying her with both arms.
Violet stood frozen, drenched, shaking uncontrollably.
One of the paramedics yelled, "We need space!"
She backed away, stumbling, eyes locked on Lucas's pale face.
As the stretcher rolled past her, his hand slipped from the blanket, dangling loosely. Violet grabbed it instinctively.
Lucas's fingers curled around hers — weak, trembling, but intentional.
A goodbye.
Or a promise.
She couldn't tell.
The paramedics pulled him away. The stretcher bumped through the garden gate. The ambulance doors shut with a metallic thud that echoed through Violet's chest.
Grace released a broken wail and ran after the flashing lights. Adam followed, holding her shoulders.
Violet didn't move.
She stood alone in the rain, soaked to the bone, breath unsteady, staring at the empty space where Lucas had been.
A gust of wind tore leaves from the willow tree at the far edge of the garden, sending them spinning through the storm.
The quiet between things was gone.
The world was shifting.
And Violet knew — nothing about Elden Bridge would feel the same after this.
---